


If Only This Were True

by poechild



Series: Prompts [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Ficlet, M/M, PWP, Smut, Well there's a teensy little bit at the end, emotional smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-23 19:51:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6128251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poechild/pseuds/poechild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John loves Sherlock, and Sherlock loves John.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If Only This Were True

**Author's Note:**

> [Willasherlyscottholmes](http://willasherlyscottholmes.tumblr.com) requested: "Marry me."

As per usual, they stumble up the stairs, giggling and groping. Feet catch on steps, hands help support, clothing is flung away, doors are pushed closed.

They blunder and bumble through the kitchen and down the hall, almost deciding to stop and go right there on the floor.

But once in the privacy and comfort of their bedroom, the mood shifts. It’s no longer hungry, fast, and frenzied; but loving, affectionate, and desperate. 

They gaze at each other, barely enough air between them for breath. Sherlock’s face and bare chest are a pleasant rosy pink, his hair already a mess from John’s fingers running through it in the cab. His eyes are crystal clear, his pupils blown so wide the brilliant blue is almost invisible. John suspects he looks similar.

He leans forward, tentatively catching Sherlock’s lips with his. Sherlock sighs, eyes closing of their own accord. They finally close the space between them, flush from chest to thigh, skin on skin.

Their hearts beat a staccato against each other, breathing in the other’s air. Each of their arousals pressed tight between them, restricted still in their trousers.

John takes Sherlock’s bottom lip into his mouth, sucking lightly. Sherlock moans, his hands moving up John’s back and pulling him closer. 

Playing with the flesh in his mouth, John releases it. He immediately kisses and licks it better, adding to the already swollen and red lips. His hands glide up and down Sherlock’s naked sides, making him shiver.  
Sherlock guides their bodies to the bed, turning himself and walking backwards.

Without releasing each other, they tumble onto the bed in a heap of limbs and ecstasy. John braces their fall with one arm, his other hand warm and supporting underneath Sherlock’s back.

John takes his time to marvel at the beautiful man underneath him, the wonderful man who agreed to be with him, and says that he loves him back. 

Sherlock mutters John’s name, almost a whimper. 

Swooping down with kisses, John worships Sherlock. Underneath his jaw, the top of his nose, the corner of his mouth, down the long column of his neck and across his chest. Words of praise and love whispered with care between each. 

Sherlock stretches up to meet them, craving the attention. He threads his fingers through the short strands of John’s hair, ensuring he doesn’t stray too far.  
John pauses when he reaches Sherlock’s waistband, his breath hot and ghosting over the prominent bulge in them. He glances up, meeting Sherlock’s eyes.

In answer, Sherlock jerks his hips upwards, demanding attention. John ravishes him.  
He takes it slow. Sweet and sensual. Sherlock pants underneath him, accepting the tender touches and affection he’s receiving. 

With Sherlock laid out, so trusting and exposed, John almost whimpers at the sight. He can’t restrain himself from kissing every inch of this man as he can. Makes sure Sherlock knows that’s he’s worshipped and loved. That he has John’s complete and utter devotion. 

John takes him, thrusting slow and deep. Wringing this out as long as he can, he wants to please and pleasure Sherlock- the man who saved him from himself and made his life worth living.

Coming with nary a noise, save for a stuttered and quiet ‘John’, Sherlock clings to him to prevent himself from falling limp onto the pillows beneath him. His face pressed into John’s shoulder, John’s hands soothing all over his overheated body.

Continuing to push deeper into his lover- once, twice, thrice- John follows soon after.  
Collapsing onto him, their chests move against each other with labored breaths. More kisses are readily accepted on both sides.

Soft, chaste pecks. They whisper their love to each other, the other reveling in the affirmation. 

They separate, but don’t go far. Curled against each other, they sleep.  
Come morning, John kisses the mop of messy hair on the head that’s resting on his shoulder.

“Marry me.”

It spills out of his mouth, the words pushing their way through. But John doesn’t regret them, knowing he means them as soon as they are said. 

There’s nowhere he wants to be other than here, with Sherlock, lazy mornings and late nights. Till the end of his days, he will always be Sherlock’s.

He hears a small gasp, the body against his small and slight.

Pleading eyes gaze up into his, blue, but not quite right. 

These are more of a grey, flat and muted. Blonde hair frames her face as she lights up in unexpected joy.

Suddenly becoming aware of an uncomfortable stickiness between his legs, gluing his thighs together, does John realise.

As Mary cups John face with her hands and places kisses across his mouth, John tries to imitate her happiness, knowing that he will never be able to give her what she wants.

Pure and unconditional love.

**Author's Note:**

> Surprise angst!
> 
> [Reblog](http://softlygasping.tumblr.com/post/129964686665/willasherlyscottholmes-said-johnlock-and-28) on my [tumblr](http://softlygasping.tumblr.com)


End file.
